_LIFE PLANS_.
Happily or unhappily,--it was as people looked at it,--Pitt's free days
in America were drawing to a close. There were few still remaining to
him before he must leave Seaforth and home, and go back to his reading
law in the Temple. In those days there was a little more discussion of
his new views and their consequences between him and his mother, but
not much; and none at all between him and his father.
'Pitt is not a fool,' he had said, when Mrs. Dallas, in her distress,
confided to him Pitt's declaration; 'I can trust him not to make an ass
of himself; and so can you, wife.'
'But he is very strong when he takes a thing in his head; always was.'
'This thing will get out of his head again, you will see.'
'I do not believe it. It isn't his way.'
'One thing is certain,--I shall never give my money to a fool to make
ducks and drakes with; and you may hint as much to him.'
'It would be very unwise policy,' said Mrs. Dallas thoughtfully.
'Then let it alone. I have no idea there is any need. You may depend
upon it, London and law will scare all this nonsense away, fast enough.'
Mrs. Dallas felt no comforting assurance of the kind. She watched her
son during the remaining days of his presence with them--watched him
incessantly; so did Betty Frere, and so, in truth, secretly, did his
father. Pitt was rather more quiet than usual; there was not much other
change to be observed in him, or so Mrs. Dallas flattered herself.
'I see a difference,' said Miss Frere, to whom she communicated this
opinion.
'What is it?' asked the mother hastily. For she had seen it too.
'It is not just easy to put it in words; but I see it. Mrs. Dallas,
there is a wonderful _rest_ come into his face.'
'Rest?' said the other. 'Pitt was never restless, in a bad sense; there
was no keep still to him; but that is not what you mean.'
'That is not what I mean. I never in my life saw anybody look so happy.'
'Can't you do something with him?'
'He gives me no chance.'
It may seem strange that a good mother should wish to interfere with
the happiness of a good son; but neither she nor Miss Frere adverted to
that anomaly.
'I should not wonder one bit,' said Mrs. Dallas bitterly, 'if he were
to disinherit himself.'
That would be bad, Betty agreed--deplorable; however, the thought of
her own loss busied her most just now; not of what Pitt might lose. Two
days before his departure all these various feelings of the various
persons in the little family received a somewhat violent jar.
It was evening. Miss Frere and Pitt had had a ride that afternoon--a
long and very spirited one. It might be the last they would take
together, and she had enjoyed it with the keenness of that
consciousness; as a grain of salt intensifies sweetness, or as discords
throw out the value of harmony. Pitt had been bright and lively as much
as ever, the ride had been gay, and the one regret on Betty's mind as
they dismounted was that she had not more time before her to try what
she could do. Pitt, as yet at least, had not grown a bit precise or
sanctimonious; he had not talked nonsense, indeed, but then he never
had paid her the very poor compliment of doing that. All the more, she
as well as the others was startled by what came out in the evening.
All supper-time Pitt was particularly talkative and bright. Mrs.
Dallas's face took a gleam from the brightness, and even Mr. Dallas
roused up to bear his part in the conversation. When supper was done
they still sat round the table, lingering in talk. Then, after a slight
pause which had set in, Pitt leaned forward a little and spoke, looking
alternately at one and the other of his parents.
'Mother,--father,--I wish you would do one thing before I go away.'
At the change in his tone all three present had pricked up their ears,
and every eye was now upon him.
'What is that, Pitt?' his mother said anxiously.
'Have family prayer.'
If a bombshell had suddenly alighted on the table and there exploded,
there would have been, no doubt, more feeling of fright, but not more
of shocked surprise. Dumb silence followed. Angry eyes were directed
towards the speaker from the top and from the bottom of the table. Miss
Frere cast down hers with the inward thought, 'Oh, you foolish, foolish
fellow! what did you do that for, and spoil everything!' Pitt waited a
little.
'It is duty,' he said. 'You yourselves will grant me that.'
'And you fancy it is _your_ duty to remind us of ours!' said his
father, with contained scorn.
The mother's agitation was violent--so violent that she had difficulty
to command herself. What it was that moved her so painfully she could
not have told; her thoughts were in too much of a whirl. Between anger,
and fear, and something else, she was in the greatest confusion, and
not able to utter a syllable. Betty sat internally railing at Pitt's
folly.
'The only question is, Is it duty?--in either case,' the son said
steadfastly.
'Exactly!' said his father. 'Well, you have done yours; and I will do
mine.'
His wife wondered at his calmness, and guessed that it was studied.
Neither of them was prepared for Pitt's next word.
'Will you?' he said simply. 'And will you let me make a beginning now?
Because I am going away?'
'Do what you like,' said the older man, with indescribable expression.
Betty interpreted it to be restrained rage. His wife thought it was a
moved conscience, or mere policy and curiosity; she could not tell
which. The words were enough, however, whatever had moved them. Pitt
took a Bible and read, still sitting at the table, the Parable of the
Talents; and then he kneeled down. The elder Dallas never stirred.
Betty knelt at once. Mrs. Dallas sat still at first, but then slipped
from her chair to the floor and buried her face in her hands, where
tears that were exceedingly bitter flowed beyond all her power to
hinder them. For Pitt was praying, and to his mother's somewhat shocked
astonishment, not in any words from a book, but in words--where did he
get them?--that broke her heart. They were solemn and sweet, tender and
simple; there was neither boldness nor shyness in them, although there
was a frankness at which Mrs. Dallas wondered, along with the
tenderness that quite subdued her.
The third one kneeling there was moved differently. The fountain of her
tears was not touched at all, neither had she any share in the passion
of displeasure which filled the father and mother. Yet she was in a
disturbance almost as complete as theirs. It was a bitter and secret
trouble, which as a woman she had to keep to herself, over which her
head bowed as she knelt there. Just for that minute she might bow her
head and confess to her trouble, while no one could see; and her head,
poor girl, went low. She did not in the least approve of Pitt's
proceedings; she did not sympathize with his motives; at the same time
they did not make her like him the less. On the contrary, and Betty
felt it was on the contrary, she could not help admiring his bravery,
and she was almost ready to worship his strength. Somebody brave enough
to avow truth that is unwelcome, and strong enough to do what goes
against the grain with himself; such a person is not to be met with
every day, and usually excites the profound respect of his fellows,
even when they do not like him. But Betty liked this one, and liked him
the more for doing the things she disliked, and it drove her to the
bounds of desperation to feel that in the engrossment of his new
principles he was carried away from her, and out of her power. Added to
all this was the extreme strangeness of the present experience.
Absolutely kneeling round the dinner-table!--kneeling to pray! Betty
had never known such a thing, nor conceived the possibility of such a
thing. In an unconsecrated place, led by unconsecrated lips, in words
nowhere set down; what could equal the irregularity and the
impropriety? The two women, in their weakness, kneeling, and the master
of the house showing by his unmoved posture that he disallowed the
whole thing! Incongruous! unfortunate! I am bound to say that Betty
understood little of the words she so disapproved; the sea under a
stormy wind is not more uneasy than was her spirit; and towards the end
her one special thought and effort was bent upon quieting the
commotion, and at least appearing unmoved. She was pretty safe, for the
other members of the family had each enough to busy him without taking
much note of her.
Pitt had but a day or two more to stay; and Miss Frere felt an
irresistible impulse to force him into at least one talk more. She
hardly knew what she expected, or what she wished from it; only, to let
him go so, without one more word, was unbearable. She wanted to get
nearer to him, if she could, if she might not bring him nearer to her;
and at any rate she wanted the bitter-sweet pleasure of arguing with
him. Nothing might come of it, but she must have the talk if she could.
So she took the first chance that offered.
The family atmosphere was a little oppressive the next morning; and
after breakfast Mr. and Mrs. Dallas both disappeared. Betty seized her
opportunity, and reminded Pitt that he had never showed her his
particular room, his old workshop and play place. 'It was not much to
see,' he said; however, he took her through the house, and up the open
flight of steps, where long ago Esther had been used to go for her
lessons. The room looked much as it had done at that time; for during
Pitt's stay at home he had pulled out one thing after another from its
packing or hiding place; and now, mounted birds and animals, coins,
shells, minerals, presses, engravings, drawings, and curiosities, made
a delightful litter; delightful, for it was not disorderly; only gave
one the feeling of a wealth of tastes and pursuits, every one of them
pursued to enjoyment. Betty studied the place and the several objects
in it with great and serious attention.
'And you understand all these things!' said she.
'So little, that I am ashamed to speak of it.'
'I know!' said Betty; 'that is what nobody says whose knowledge is
small. It takes a good deal of knowing to perceive how much one does
_not_ know.'
'That is true.'
'And what becomes of all these riches when you are gone away?'
'They remain in seclusion. I must pack them up to-day. It is a job I
have reserved to the last, for I like to have them about while I am
here.'
He began as he spoke to put away some little articles, and got out
paper to wrap up others.
'And how came you by all these tastes? Mr. and Mrs. Dallas do not share
them, I think.'
'No. Impossible to say. Inherited from some forgotten ancestor,
perhaps.'
'Were there ever any Independents or Puritans among your ancestors?'
'No!' said Pitt, with a laughing look at her. 'The record is clean, I
believe, on both sides of the house. My mother has not that on her
conscience.'
'But you sympathize with such supposititious ancestors?'
'Why do you say so?'
'Mr. Pitt,' said Betty, sitting down and folding her hands seriously in
her lap, 'I wish you would let me ask you one thing.'
'Ask it certainly,' said he.
'But it is really not my business; only, I am puzzled, and interested,
and do not know what to think. You will not be displeased?'
'I think I can answer for that.'
'Then do tell me why, when you are just going away and cannot carry it
on, you should have done what you did last night?'
'As I am just going away, don't you see, it was my only chance.'
'But I do not understand why you did it. You knew it would be something
like an earthquake; and what is the use of earthquakes?'
'You remember the Eastern theory--Burmese, is it? or
Siamese?--according to which the world rests on the heads of four
elephants; when one of the elephants shakes his head, there is an
earthquake. But must not the elephant therefore move his head?'
'But the world does not rest on _your_ head.'
'I do not forget that,' said Pitt gravely. 'Not the world, but a small
piece of it does rest on my head, as on that of every other human
creature. On the right position and right movement of every one of us
depends more than we know. What we have to do is to keep straight and
go straight.'
'But did you think it was _duty_ to do what you did last night?'
'I did it in that faith.'
'I wish you would explain to me!' cried the lady. 'I cannot understand.
I believe you, of course; but _why_ did you think it duty? It just
raised a storm; you know it did; they did not like it; and it would
only make them more opposed to your new principles. I do not see how it
could do any good.'
'Yes,' said Pitt, who meanwhile was going on with his packing and
putting away. 'I know all that. But don't you think people ought to
show their colours, as much as ships at sea?'
'Ships at sea do not always show their colours.'
'If they do not, when there is occasion, it is always ground for
suspicion. It shows that they are for some reason either afraid or
ashamed to announce themselves.'
'I do not understand!' said Miss Frere perplexedly. 'Why should _you_
show your colours?'
'I said I was moved by duty to propose prayers last night. It was more
than that.' Pitt stopped in his going about the room and stood opposite
his fair opponent, if she can be called so, facing her with steady eyes
and a light in them which drew her wonder. 'It was more than duty.
Since I have come to see the goodness of Christ, and the happiness of
belonging to Him, I wish exceedingly that everybody else should see it
and know it as I do.'
'And, if I remember, you intimated once that it was to be the business
of your life to make them know it?'
'What do you think of that purpose?'
'It seems to me extravagant.'
'Otherwise, fanatical!'
'I would not express it so. But what are clergymen for, if this is your
business?'
'To whom was the command given?'
'To the apostles and their successors.'
'No, it was given to the whole band of disciples; the order to go into
all the world and make disciples of every creature.'
'All the disciples!'
'And to all the disciples that other command was given,--"Whatsoever ye
would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them." And of all the
things that a man can want and desire to have given him, there is
nothing comparable for preciousness to the knowledge of Christ.'
'But, Mr. Dallas, this is not the general way of thinking?'
'Among those who'--he paused--'who are glad in the love of Christ, I
think it must be.'
'Then what are those who are not "glad" in that way?'
'Greatly to be pitied!'
There was a little pause. Pitt went on busily with his work. Betty sat
and looked at him, and looked at the varieties of things he was putting
under shelter or out of the way. One after another, all bearing their
witness to the tastes and appetite for knowledge possessed by the
person who had gathered them together. Yes, if Pitt was not a
scientist, he was very fond of sciences; and if he were not to be
called an artist in some kinds, he was full of feeling for art. What an
anomaly he was! how very unlike this room looked to the abode of a
fanatic!
'What is to become of all these things?' she asked, pursuing her
thoughts.
'They will be safe here till I return.'
'But I mean-- You do not understand me. I was thinking rather, what
would become of all the tastes and likings to which they bear evidence?
How do they match with your new views of things?'
'How do they not match?' said Pitt, stopping short.
'You spoke of giving up all things, did you not?'
'The Bible does,' said Pitt, smiling. 'But that is, _if need be_ for
the service or honour of God. Did you think they were to be renounced
in all cases?'
'Then what did you mean?'
'The Bible means, evidently, that we are to be so minded, toward them
and toward God, that we are ready to give them up and do give them up
just so far and so fast as His service calls for it. That is all, and
it is enough!'
Betty watched him a little longer, and then began again.
'You say, it is to be the business of your life to--well, how shall I
put it?--to set people right, in short. Why don't you begin at the
beginning, and attack me?'
'I don't know how to point my guns.'
'Why? Do you think me such a hard case?'
He hesitated, and said 'Yes.'
'Why?' she asked again, with a mixture of mortification and curiosity.
'Your defences have withstood all I have been able to bring to bear in
the shape of ordnance.'
'Why do you say that? I have been very much interested in all I have
heard you say.'
'I know that; and not in the least moved.'
Betty was vexed. Had her tactics failed so utterly? Did Pitt think she
was a person quite and irremediably out of his plane, and inaccessible
to the interests which he ranked first of all? She had wanted to get
nearer to him. Had she so failed? She would not let the tears come into
her eyes, but they were ready, if she would have let them.
'So you give me up!' she said.
'I have no alternative.'
'You have lost all hope of me?'
'No. But at present your eyes are so set in another direction that you
will not look the way I have been pointing you. Of course, you do not
see what I see.'
'In what direction are my eyes so set?'
'I will not presume to tell Miss Frere what she knows so much better
than I do.'
Betty bit her lip.
'What is in that cabinet?' she asked suddenly.
'Coins.'
'Oh, coins! I never could see the least attractiveness in coins.'
'That was because--like some other things--they were not looked at.'
'Well, what _is_ the interest of them?'
'To find out, I am afraid you must give them your attention. They are
like witnesses, stepping out from the darkness of the past and telling
the history of it--history in which they moved and had a part, you
understand.'
'But the history of the past is not so delightful, is it, that one
would care much about hearing the witnesses? What is in that other
cabinet, where you are standing?'
'That contains my herbarium.'
'All that? You don't mean that all those drawers are filled with dried
flowers?'
'Pretty well filled. There is room for some more.'
'How you must have worked!'
'That was play.'
'Then what do you call work?'
'Well, reading law rather comes into that category.'
'You expect to go on reading law?'
'For the present. I approve of finishing things when they are begun.'
'Mr. Dallas, what are you going to _do?_ In what, after all, are you
going to be unlike other men? Your mother seems to apprehend some
disastrous and mysterious change in all your prospects; I cannot see
the necessity of that. In what are you going to be other than she
wishes you to be? Are not her fears mistaken?'
Pitt smiled a grave smile; again stopped in his work and stood opposite
her.
'I might say "yes" and "no,"' he answered. 'I do not expect to have a
red cross embroidered on my sleeve, like the old crusaders. But judge
yourself. Can those who live to do the will of God be just like those
whose one concern is to do their own will?'
'Mr. Dallas, you insinuate, or your words might be taken to insinuate,
that all the rest of us are in the latter class!'
'Whose will do you do?' he said.
There was no answer, for Betty had too much pluck to speak falsely, and
too much sense not to know what was truth. She accordingly did not say
anything, and after waiting a minute or two Pitt went on with his
preparations, locking up drawers, packing up boxes, taking down and
putting away the many objects that filled the room. There was not a
little work of this sort to be done, and he went on with it busily, and
with an evidently trained and skilled hand.
'Then, after finishing with law, do you expect to come back here and
unpack all these pretty things again?' she said finally.
'Perhaps. I do not know.'
'Perhaps you will settle in England?'
'I do not yet know what is the work that I have to do in the world. I
_shall_ know, but I do not know now. It may be to go to India, or to
Greenland; or it may be to come here. Though I do not now see what I
should do in Seaforth that would be worth living for.'
India or Greenland! For a young man who was heir to no end of money,
and would have acres of land! Miss Betty perceived that here was
something indeed very different from the general run of rich young men,
and that Mrs. Dallas had not been so far wrong in her forebodings. 'How
very absurd!' she said to herself as she went away down the open
staircase; 'and what a pity!'